Leaving the Game
by bcampo
Summary: A young woman dealing with loss begins to question her own sanity


The Crow: Leaving the Game

By [Brian Campo][1] (bcampo@hotmail.com)

* * *

Did you ever know that I still dream about you?   
Here in the night it's just you and me.   
Two fools trying to make it   
The way it's supposed to be   
I still think you're there   
When I turn out the light   
And though you won't believe it   
I still reach for you in the night.   
-Brian Campo 

A terse rapping at the door snapped Annie from her trance, making her jump in her chair. Her eyes swung around the room, allowing reality to slip back into place. She looked at the wind-up clock sitting on the table. It was six. Already? How long had she been staring at the picture this time? 

Then she remembered what had startled her. Someone had knocked at the door. 

"Hello?" she called out. 

"It's Miss Bigsley." said the voice outside her door. "Your foods on the table, Annie, and it's getting cold." 

Annie ran to the door and opened it. Miss Bigsley stood outside with her arms folded under her breasts, looking at Annie over glasses that the young woman doubted she even used. 

"I'm sorry, Miss Bigsley. I must have spaced off. I'll be right down." 

"I can't be running to fetch you at every meal, girl. You have to start pulling your head together." She stopped and looked Annie up and down. "It looks like you've been missing some meals as it is. You need to put on some weight." 

Annie nodded in agreement, knowing that Miss Bigsley was just looking out for her. Besides, she knew that the older woman was right. She hadn't been eating properly. Not since...Well, there was no need to stir that up right now. 

She watched Miss Bigsley's eyes wander past her and into the room behind her. They took in the sewing paraphernalia that Annie had been holding a few moments earlier and then wandered to the picture on the table. At last, they came full circle back to Annie's face. 

"You shouldn't be doing this to yourself, Annie. It's been three months now. You're twenty-six, girl, and you look older than me." 

"I know." said Annie. "I just haven't been feeling very well. I'll be down in a minute. I need to wash up and brush out my hair." 

"Well, don't get lost along the way." said the boarding house owner and she turned to go back downstairs. Annie closed the door and went to the vanity to wash her face and hands. The water in the pitcher had lost some of it's heat since she had brought it up with her at four. It was still warm enough to wash with. She poured some into the basin and splashed it up onto her face. She stood up straight, dabbing her face dry with the towel. As she pulled it away from her face, she was surprised, as she always was, to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. 

It was becoming increasingly hard to associate the image she saw there with herself. She hardly looked like she always remembered. Miss Bigsley was right. She had lost weight. Her face, which used to have a glowing oval shape, was now all sharp angles and hollow valleys. Her hands reached up and traced the outlines of her sunken eyes for a moment, and then she snatched them away. 

She picked up her brush and went to work on her red tresses, ripping out the tangles that were the curse of the curly haired girl. 

She was going to stop doing this to herself. She was going to go downstairs, clean her plate, and then maybe take a walk afterwards. She needed to get out of this house. Lately, she had only stepped foot out of the boarding house when she was delivering some of her finished costumes to the theater, or if one of her regular customers asked her to come over to take some measurements. 

This wasn't living, she told herself. She was just doing a bad impression of it. 

A few of the other boarders looked up and said hello when Annie came into the dining room. She managed a smile for Miss Bigsley, and received a nod in reply. 

Annie smoothed her skirt behind her and took a seat at the table. There was a plate with a hot turkey sandwich waiting for her there. Annie took a quick look around for comparison, and she was pretty sure that Miss Bigsley had put some extra on Annie's plate for her. 

Clean your plate, she told herself. She picked up the fork and started with some of the mashed potatoes. She took a bite and let it sit in her mouth for a minute. Oh, no. There was something wrong with the food. The potatoes and the chicken gravy drowning them had no flavor. It was as bland as eating paper. She looked around to see if anyone else had noticed it, but they were all happily digging into their meal. She tried the turkey and got the same results. 

Maybe she just wasn't very hungry. 

"I heard a joke today." said Jimmy Doolin, a carpenter that stayed in the boarding house. 

Miss Bigsley looked at him like she was only expecting the worse. "Is it appropriate for the dinner table, James?" 

"Oh, yeah." he said and proceeded to tell a bawdy joke about gullible nuns that had everyone at the table cackling and Miss Bigsley shaking her head her head in disbelief. Annie thought she saw a slight smile sneak onto the woman's face. 

"You're a dirty bugger, Jim Doolin." said Maxine O'Donnell, a girl that used to be very close to Annie. Annie wasn't really close to anyone anymore. 

"And you like it." he said back. 

Maxine was throwing out signals that a blind man could have seen when she nodded back at him. 

"I think that will be enough, you two." said Miss Bigsley. 

While everyone's attention was elsewhere, Annie took the opportunity to set her fork down, in hopes that Miss Bigsley would not notice. No such luck. The next time the old woman's eyes wandered the room, they stopped briefly on Annie, and she gave her a very disapproving stare. Annie quickly looked away. 

She half heartedly listened to the dinner chatter, her mind wandering off in the direction it always took. Toward him. 

His name was Robert Mandale, and he was the love of Annie's life. He was a dancer at the theater where she got much of her business, a fine looking, blond haired man. He wore his hair cut close to his skull and on occasion sported a goatee. He had a ballet dancers body; tall, slim, and powerfully built. 

Annie had met him a year ago, when he was playing understudy to a big role in a lavish production. The director had asked her to come right over to the theater to take some measurements and start fitting a costume to Robert's size. Apparently, the dancer who usually had Robert's part was getting the flu. The director wanted to have a backup ready if the dancer's health took a turn for the worse. It was Annie's willingness to answer these last minute calls that kept her in business. 

She had rushed over and had been shown into a prop filled dressing room where she had met the man who would steal her heart. 

A little while later, when she was measuring his inseam, he had instructed her not to make the pants too tight in the crotch. His shit eating grin made her crack up. 

"Are you always this cocky, Mr. Mandale?" 

"Only when I have a woman on her knees in front of me, and she's got her knuckles pressed up against my nut sack. Oh, and please call me Robert. You'll make me feel old." 

"Well, Robert, you certainly do have a way with words. You should be a poet." 

"Have you ever seen me dance, Miss...?" 

Annie looked at him for a minute, trying to decide how much she wanted to let this clown know. What the hell, she thought. He was crafty, but there was something about him she liked. 

"Borden." she said after a moment. "Annie Borden. And no I haven't seen you dance." 

"If you had, you would have known that I am already a poet. My movements are pure poetry." 

"Are you that good, or are you just unbelievably full of your self?" She stood up and wound the tape around his chest. "Deep breath." she said. 

He inhaled and when she looked up at his face, he was staring at her. "Dance with me, Miss Borden. And then judge for yourself." 

"I don't dance." 

"How could a beautiful girl like you not be a dancer?" He raised his hands as if he was holding an invisible waltzer and swayed back and forth. He smoothly dipped his imaginary partner so low that her hair would have surely been sweeping the floor. 

Annie turned three shades of pink. "I just don't. But I sew," she said, recovering quickly. "and my stitches are pure poetry." She rolled her eyes dramatically, playfully mocking him. 

He smiled that smile of his, the one that could get a girl wet looking at it. He could take a joke. 

"Well, it looks like I will get a chance to dance tonight. Would you stay and watch?" His eyes were whispering words that she didn't think she should be listening to. 

"I can't afford to go to the ballet on my salary, Mister." 

"I'll get you a seat. If I can't, I'll pay for one. If you say no, I shall kill myself on stage, I swear to God." 

This guy sure had a silver tongue, she thought. If she wasn't careful, she would be bearing his children by 9:00. 

"Well, there might be children in the audience, and I couldn't bear to think that it was my fault that they had to witness your gruesome suicide. I'll go." 

She stepped back and began to wind up her tape. 

"Good." he said. "Then it's settled." He looked truly relieved that she hadn't called his bluff.   
  


My Lady may I have this dance   
Forgive a knight who knows no shame   
My Lady may I have this dance   
And Lady may I know your name   
-Mark Knopler 

Full of shit as he may be, thought Annie several hours later, he wasn't lying about how good he was. Her eyes followed him as he whirled back and forth across the stage and she found herself shutting everything in the world out except him. He was pure poetry, his movements a perfect combination of balance, precision, and grace. 

He had come through on his word and got her a balcony seat where she had a full view of both the stage and the orchestra. When she had finished with sewing the costume earlier that afternoon, she had raced back to the boarding house to get one of her good dresses. 

Other people that lived on Annie's salary might not have been able to dress well, but with her skills, if nothing else in life, she had beautiful dresses. On her way out the door that night, Miss Bigsley had complimented her on the way she looked. Jim Doolin had stared at her as if realizing for the first time that she might be of the female variety of the species. She thanked Miss Bigsley and walked back to the theater, carefully avoiding any puddles that a passing carriage or model T might choose to splash up onto her. 

After what seemed like an eternity, when the show ended, Robert stood in center stage with the other dancers and took a bow. When he stood back up, he looked up at the balcony seat he had procured for her and bowed deeply for her. She blushed and gave him two very enthusiastic thumbs up. 

He walked her home that night, still dressed in his flamboyant costume. He danced circles around her, stopping occasionally to hold her hand and ask her questions. She had decided there was more to this fellow than had first met the eye. Now she knew that he charming, sensitive, caring egotistical brat. She thought she might get to like him. 

When they got to Annie's boarding house, Miss Bigsley met them at the door and gave Robert a once over with her eyes. His clothing received a bemused smirk. 

"This suit was the cheapest." was his only excuse. 

"That's what I assumed." said Miss Bigsley. "Perhaps the two of you would like to have something to drink while you talk on the patio?" 

Miss Bigsley's no unmarried couples in the rooms rule was quietly and strictly enforced. It would be bent and broken numerous times in the next four months. The friendship turned to romance and it wasn't long before Robert was sneaking in through Annie's second floor window at night. 

It wasn't long before Miss Bigsley began to suspect that something was up and one night she staked out the roof of the building. As a result, Robert nearly got his block knocked off by Miss Bigsley's silver tipped cane and received instead a strong lecture on how improperly he was behaving. It didn't make him stop his late night visits, he just got sneakier. 

It was three months into their relationship before they decided to consummate it. The first night they made love, she got the impression that they were both working off a lot of built up sexual frustration. She could still remember laying with only a thin blanket separating her from the cool wooden floor, because they were too afraid that the squeaking bed would have brought Miss Bigsley running. Robert kissing and driving himself into her, swearing his love a thousand times. She remembered the feel of his face on her fingertip, the pleasantly rough scratch of his stubble. Trying to suppress giggles as he administered love bites on the neck and in other more scandalous places. The lazy calm when the morning came and they lay resting in each other's arms. He had leaned close to her ear and whispered, 

"Are you going to eat that Miss Borden?" 

It was a moment before Annie realized that Jim Doolin had spoken to her. 

"Wha-? What?" she asked, confused. The others around the table were looking at her like it wasn't the first time he had asked her. 

"Your dinner. Are you going to eat it? Cause if you aren't." He gave her a pleading look. She slid her plate to him and Miss Bigsley handed out dirty looks to both of them. 

Annie asked to be excused, and decided that if she couldn't keep her resolution to clean her plate, at least she would take the walk. 

There was a light mist in the air outside, and she could smell ozone. It would be raining within the hour. She liked the rain, and didn't mind walking in it. She started up the street, toward the theater district. 

The streets were busy. The men of the city had had enough time to get home, get themselves cleaned up and stuffed into their nicest clothes. It was a friday night and they were out in force to go get their girlfriends and go get some courting done. 

There was a man changing a bulb on a street corner lamp, and he gave Annie a smile as she walked past him. "Looks like rain, young lady, hope you can find an umbrella." 

"I like the rain." she said. 

"You'll ruin that pretty dress." he said. 

"Oh, it needs to be washed any way." 

She heard him chuckling as she walked away from him. The clopping of horse's hooves warned her of a carriage coming up the street, so she waited for it to pass. The driver tipped his hat at her, as any gentleman would do. She rewarded him with a smile and crossed the street in his wake. 

She didn't pay attention to where she was going, it just felt good to be out of that house. There was plenty of money in her purse for a decent night on the town, but she didn't have anything she wanted to do. For now, the action of walking was entertainment enough. That was what she kept telling herself, any way. 

In all reality, she knew exactly where she was headed. She was going to the place where she had died. 

No, that wasn't right. Why had she thought that? It was the place that Robert had died. The reason, she told herself, was because part of her had died that night, too. Death had come so sudden, though, that she hadn't realized it and had just kept on going. 

She had read a book one time and it had been about growing fruit trees. One chapter was about something called grafting. It was where two different kinds of trees were grown so close together that they become one tree. They bond so completely that it is impossible to tell where one tree ends and another starts without a microscope. They live and support each other, and can produce fruit that is unique to that cross breed only. Should you attempt to separate the two trees once they have grafted, both will die. 

That was her and Robert. They had grafted, growing into one entity and when he died, a part of her had been torn away. She had been dying every since. 

Between the two of us, she thought, we could have produced such wonderful and unique fruit. Such beautiful babies. 

Her knees went weak, she lost her balance and fell against the brick wall she was passing. "Don't do this." she told herself sternly. Unstoppable, a sob escaped her chest. Don't do this here. If you do, every person on the street is going to want to know why you're crying, and if there is anything they can do for you. Then you're going to have to fight the urge to scream in their faces. Try to keep from screaming, "Sure! Can you raise the dead?!" 

It took her a couple of minutes, but she got it under control. When she thought she might be able to pass for a normal human being, she pushed herself away from the wall and continued on her way. 

Was this the route they took that night? She couldn't be sure. It had been snowing, and she hadn't really paid attention where they were going. 

Roberts face danced across her vision, still wearing his makeup from his night at the ballet. When he laughed, the black painted lines on each side of his mouth exaggerated his smile. 

"I'm playing the fool." he told her when she saw the make up. 

"Aren't you always?" she had asked. 

She stood at the mouth of the alley now, living in two moments simultaneously. Somewhere in time, she was racing from this alley, screaming for someone, anyone to help her. Robert was yelling for her to run. Run and don't look back. 

She had been here before, and just like every time before, she could not bring herself to go into the alley itself. That would be too much for her to handle. When she had satisfied whatever need it was that made her walk here, she turned around and walked the mile back to the boarding house. As the sky had been promising, it did indeed begin to rain, and by the time she reached home, she was soaked. She ran up the stairs to her room, trying to drip as little as possible on Miss Bigsley's floor. 

Once in her room, she locked the door and stripped her wet clothes off. They were hung neatly by the furnace vent in the wall to dry. She dried herself with a towel and pulled a flannel nightgown out of her top drawer. Her hair would be a rat nest in the morning if she went to bed with it wet, but she didn't care. She was cold and longed for the warmth of her blankets. She slid under the covers and closed her eyes. 

It was four hours later and she had rolled back and forth across the bed a hundred times before sleep finally came.   
  


The freezing corners and the empty streets   
The burning passion and the cold wet feet   
Three tricky miles home every night   
Dodgin' from the shadows underneath these amber lights   
No car for kissing and nowhere to go   
Except inside each other and I love you so   
I held your face as you shivered in the rain   
Girl, I'll always love you and I'll love you again. 

-Chris Rea   
  


She woke to the sounds of men talking below her window, as she did every morning. The sun had not come up yet, but the men below had to get to their jobs early. She heard Jim Doolin leave the house, greeting his fellow carpenters. 

It was cold, she realized. She opened her eyes and noticed that the window was open. There was the faint scent of cigarette smoke in the air. 

"Damn it, Robert." she started to say, and then she stopped herself. That wasn't right. Robert was dead. 

She sat up in bed and looked around the room. She was very much alone. 

So I guess it's time to play that game again, she thought. The game was where she woke up and tried to convince herself that the last three months had been just one long, bad dream. Robert was still alive and they were still in love. 

No. She wasn't going to do this to herself anymore. She threw back the blankets and swung her legs out of the bed. Her feet slipped into a pair of slippers sitting on the floor. 

Served her right to have a freezeing room in the morning, she told herself. How could she be so stupid as to leave her window open when it was pouring rain? 

She walked around the rocking chair and slid the window closed. When she turned back around, she saw it. 

Several minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, and she was still staring at it. 

One of the few things that she used to have to scold Robert about was his smoking in her room. She just couldn't seem to convince him that if Miss Bigsley smelled the smoke, she was going to figure out what was going on. There was even the chance that Annie could be kicked out. Try as she may, she would still wake up on some mornings to see him sitting in that chair. He would be smoking one of his self rolled cigarettes, grinning that shit eating grin because she had caught him. 

"Damn it, Robert." she would say. 

There was absolutely no reason why it should be there, she told herself. She had swept this room every day since the night he died, so there was no way it could still be there. 

Sitting on the floor next to the rocking chair, defying all reason, was the cold gray cherry from a cigarette. 

There has to be a perfectly good reason why that is sitting there, she told herself. I brought it in on the bottom of my shoe. Yes. That's it. That's what happened. I brought a fragile piece of ash in on the bottom of my flat soled boots and deposited it undamaged on the floor next to where my dead lover used to sit and smoke when he was alive. That makes a lot more sense then whatever foolishness you were thinking of. 

She bent down, picked it up (it still feels warm, but never mind that) and threw it into an empty flower vase on her table. The flower vase had a faint tinge of smoke to it. Robert used to use it as an ash tray when he spent the night. 

Well, that was about enough of that bullshit. She got herself dressed for the days work and brushed her hair free of it's tangles. Half an hour later, she gave the now broken up pieces of ash one last look and left her room to go downstairs. She almost made it out the door before Miss Bigsley stuck her foot against the bottom of it, keeping her from getting it open. She handed Annie a fried egg sandwich and said in a tone that left no room for argument, "Eat it." She watched Annie until she consumed the whole thing. Then she handed Annie a glass of juice and said, "Drink it." 

Annie did as she was told and was allowed to leave at that point. As she left the house, the sun was making it's debut. 

Her walk led her across town to a very upscale neighborhood. Children were playing in the streets. She made her way to a large victorian mansion and went around to knock on the back door. A black maid answered the door and showed Annie in when she saw who was calling. 

"Mrs. Fredrickson is waiting for you in the parlor." said the woman and led Annie to meet her highest paying customer. 

Mrs. Fredrickson, or Betty, as Annie had been instructed to address her, was sitting on an elegant little couch reading the morning paper. She looked up and smiled when Annie came in the room. 

"Good morning, Annie. Right on time as usual. Won't you sit down?" 

Annie took a seat next to the older woman and folded her hands in her lap. 

"Have you seen the paper this morning, Annie?" 

"No, ma'am." 

"Terrible, terrible news." said Betty sadly. "Quite a few people died in a fire last night. An opium den over on East 52nd street burned to the ground with forty to fifty people inside. Absolutely tragic, I tell you." 

"Does anyone know how it started?" asked Annie, stunned that so many people had died at the same time. 

"According to Mr. Fredrickson," said Betty, rolling her eyes like she didn't put much stock into Mr. Fredrickson's knowledge. "those opium dens are full of all types of pipes for smoking the stuff, so any of those could have started the blaze. I don't think Mr. Fredrickson would know an opium pipe if he accidently sat on it." 

Annie suppressed a giggle and turned their conversation toward the days work. "Did the material for the dining room come in?" 

"Yes, indeed." said Betty. "I must say that it is going to look lovely with the new carpeting in there. Would you like to go get started?" 

"Sure." said Annie, and then she followed Betty through the house to the dining room where several rolls of golden colored material were sitting on a thirty-five foot dining table. 

"Oh, that is nice." said Annie. She picked up a roll and held it up next to the window. "These curtains are going to be gorgeous." 

"With the way you sew, I'm betting on it, dear. Will you be needing anything?" 

Annie sat her sewing kit on the floor and looked around. "I don't think so." 

"Very good. Then I'll leave you to your work." 

Betty had provided more than enough material, she realized when she started unfolding the rolls. She went to work on them, cutting them and shaping them into what would soon be beautiful curtains. The job would take a couple of hours, and it was going to pay the rent for the whole month. It kept her busy, too, for which she was thankful. It also left her time to think. 

Four months ago, Robert had started talking to her about marriage and the two of them buying a house outside the city. Actually, it was Annie that brought up the marriage part. 

"I may let you sneak in and defile me at night, Mister," she had told him. "but if you want me to live with you, you will just have to marry me." 

That was when he hit her with it. He dropped to one knee, and pulled a small box out of his pocket. He lowered his head and raised the box to offer it to her. 

"My lady may you accept this ring, and with it, a knight who knows no shame." 

Looking back, she was amazed she maintained bladder control. She snatched the box from him and unceremoniously tore it open. The ring wouldn't be dangerous to wear around town, but it was very pretty. She let him slip it on her finger. 

She asked how in the world they could ever be able to afford to buy a house. He told her that he was willing to sell himself on the street if she would do the same. That had earned him the customary slug in the shoulder, of course. He said that he had been putting some money back and they probably had enough to put down on the place. 

Several hours later, she and Betty stood in the dining room looking at Annie's handiwork. 

"Those are just lovely, Annie. I shall have to pay you a bonus." She kept pulling the curtains out so she could look behind them. "Lovely." she kept saying. 

She did indeed give Annie a bonus, along with some bad news. 

"I'm afraid I won't have any work for you until next month. Mr. Fredrickson has taken the liberty of booking us on a voyage to England and I won't be able to return for a month." 

"That's okay, I've got some other things to keep me busy, and you have been more than generous." 

"I tell you, he is more exited now then he was on our honey moon. We will be taking the return voyage to England aboard the Titanic. I think it's a waste of money, but it's what will keep him happy." 

"I've heard of that ship." said Annie. "Isn't it the largest ever?" 

"That's what he keeps telling me." 

They said their good byes and Annie started back into town. She decided she wanted to go do a little shopping for herself before she went home. The shops were all open by this time of day, and some of the restaurants were cooking their first batches of the day's meals. The street smelled of roasting chicken and bar-b-qued beef. 

Some workmen were out in front of a men's clothing shop, and as she got closer, she saw that the sidewalk was littered with broken glass. The shopowner was standing out front supervising the men who were putting in the new window. 

When he saw Annie watching them, he tipped his hat to her. "Had a bit of a break-in this morning, Miss. Watch your step, now." 

"Was anything taken?" she asked. 

"Just some clothes." he said. "They stripped the dummy I had in the window. Made off with his tux. Some shoes and other things too. I had money in the drawer but they didn't even try for it." 

Annie continued her way, making a stop at a corner pharmacy. She picked up some aspirin and asked the pharmacist if he had anything that could help her sleep. He sold her some powder that she could mix a teaspoon of into her tea at dinner and it would help her fall asleep. She thanked him kindly, and then walked home.   
  


I come home   
To a night alone   
Hold the memories fast   
With a photograph   
These empty tears   
Fall like rain tonight   
There is no sleep   
Without you . . . 

-Brian Campo 

That night, as she lay her head down on her pillow, she could already feel the effects of the powder. Her whole body felt strangely distant and her eyelids were twenty pounds a piece. It wasn't long before she was snoring softly. 

She dreamed of that night. 

The crowd was cheering for Robert and he bowed for them with a smile. He had been playing understudy again, and once again, he had gotten his opportunity to dance. The usual dancer had sent a message that afternoon that he was sick, so Robert had taken the role. He had even shaved off his goatee to take the part. 

There were several critics in the front row that night and they were clapping and smiling for Robert. Annie met him as he came off stage and he swept her up in his arms. He tried to kiss her, but she said, "Watch it, you oaf. You still got that garbage on your face." 

"I'm playing the fool." he said, and kissed her anyway. 

"Aren't you always?" 

He let her go and ran back out on stage to give the crowd another heartfelt bow. They stood for him and there were even a couple of cheers from the back. When he left the stage this time, he grabbed her by the hand and led her straight out the back door. 

"Come on, Annie. Let's get out of here." 

Outside, the snow was falling, but he didn't seem to mind that he wasn't dressed for the cold. 

"Was I good?" he asked. 

"You were wonderful." she said, and he kissed her again, leaving black lipstick on her. She wiped it from her mouth and smeared it on his shoulder. "You're a slob." 

"Then why are you marrying me?" 

"Because no one else will and I took pity on you." 

He feigned that he had been stabbed in the heart and she laughed at his antics. He really didn't care if anyone saw him playing the fool for her. 

"Are you hungry?" he asked. 

"Not particularly." she replied. 

"Then you will have to watch me eat." 

"You're going to get fat." she said. 

"Do you think the crowds will still love me?" 

"No." 

"Will you?" 

"No." she answered. "But I will still pity you." 

"Good enough." he said. He looked over her shoulder, and his eyes narrowed. A second later, the look was gone. 

Before she had a chance to look at what he had seen, he said, "Come on. I know a place that has pie. I want pie." He dragged her quickly behind him. 

They were hustling past the opening of an alley when a tall burly man stepped out and said, "Hello, Mr. Randall. Mr. Resnick asked us to come speak with you." 

Robert looked at him, puzzled. "Who?" Annie turned and saw several more unsavory gentlemen walking up behind them. 

"Please don't play games with us." said the tall man. "It makes us irritable." 

"Who are these men, Robert?" asked Annie, suddenly very afraid. 

"I don't know. Look, Mister. You must have mistaken me for somebody else. My name is Robert Mandale. I don't know anyone named Resnick." 

"Fine, fucker." said one of the men behind them. He gave Robert a strong shove. "We can do this the hard way." 

Annie screamed, and Robert told her everything would be ok. The man that had shoved him jumped forward and punched Robert in the jaw. Robert recovered and returned the punch in kind. The tall man grabbed him from behind and secured him in a headlock. 

Annie started screaming, and she couldn't stop. The other men grabbed Robert by the legs and they started to drag him into the alley. Annie hit one of them on the back and he shoved her away. 

"I'll get back to you in a minute, bitch." said the man, before turning back into the alley. She heard Robert yell out of the darkness. 

"Run, Annie! Run and don't look back!" 

She stood frozen in her tracks, and then she heard him scream. She came unglued. Several minutes later, when she was next aware, she was out in the middle of a street screaming and a policeman was running out to her. 

"They're killing him!" she screamed. 

"Who?" said the cop. "Where?" 

She realized she didn't know how she had gotten here, and she might not be able to find the way back. She looked down and saw her tracks clearly marking her trail in the snow. The police man chased after her with gun drawn as she retraced her path back to the alley. 

The cop ran into the alley, brandishing the gun in front of him. The men were gone. Annie followed the cop, looking left and right for what had become of her Robert. She found him laying in a pile of garbage. They had taken a straight razor to him. There were cuts running the length of the black lines that had been painted on his face. The cuts on his cheeks went all the way through, and you could see his molars clearly though the slits. His pants had been pulled down and his genitals had been removed with jagged, tearing cuts. 

He was quite dead. 

She had no money. Every penny that she and Robert had had to their name had been put into the house, and she lost every bit of it. Robert was buried two days later in Potters Field. There were twelve other bodies dumped into his grave with him.   
  


Hush now don't you cry   
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye   
You're lying safe in bed   
It was all a bad dream   
Spinning in your head   
Your mind tricked you to feel the pain   
Of someone close to you leaving the game   
Of life   
-Chris DeGarmo 

It was close to eleven o'clock before Annie came around the next morning. She felt very doped up and just a little hung over. At least I slept, she told herself. Probably more last night then she had in weeks. 

The other side of her bed had been slept in but she told herself that it must have been her rolling around in her sleep. No matter that she found dirt between the sheets at the foot of the bed. That must have been her, too. She was done with the game. 

Her sewing kit was sitting opened up on the table, although she was sure that she had closed it and put it under the bed the night before. Besides, what would Robert want with a sewing kit? He couldn't sew if his life depended on it. 

Not that that mattered. It was obvious that she was just remembering wrong and she had in fact left the kit out herself. 

She wandered down to the shared bathroom downstairs and ran herself a bath. The hot water did wonders for waking up her still sleeping body. She had been laying in there for a half hour when there was a knock at the door. 

"It's Miss Bigsley." 

The older woman opened the door wide enough to let herself into the bathroom. 

"How are you this morning, Annie?" 

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" 

The older woman shrugged and sat down on the closed toilet seat. "It didn't sound like you got a lot of sleep last night." 

Annie looked at her for a moment, puzzled. "How so?" 

"Well, I heard you squeaking chairs and walking around until the wee hours. You know, if you're having trouble getting to sleep you could get something from the pharmacy to help you." 

"I already did. I slept like a log last night. Maybe you were hearing Doolin moving around." 

Miss Bigsley cocked her head and wrinkled her brow. "I don't think that Mr. Doolin has a rocking chair like I heard going last night. Well, if you're fine, you're fine. I just worry about you, Annie." 

"I know you do, Miss Bigsley. I would let you know if there was something wrong. You've taken very good care of me over the last few months. I'm getting better, I swear." 

"Very well." said Miss Bigsley as she got to her feet. "Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Can I expect you?" 

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be there. Thank you, ma'am." 

"That's all right, Annie. I've been where you are, and there was someone for me, too."   
  


Annie was proud that she was able to get down half of her lunch, and that must have pleased her benefactor, too. She didn't give Annie any looks. 

After she ate, Annie decided she would take a walk. Miss Bigsley stopped her at the door. 

"Be careful out there, girl. The man down at the market said there might be some of these street gangs fighting. A bunch of fellas got theirselves killed in a fight last night. A bullet that misses the man it's after will take the girl in front of it just as readily." 

"I'll be careful. See you this afternoon."   
  


The sun was out and Annie enjoyed her walk. She delivered some of her finished costumes to the theater and spent the rest of the after noon wandering the streets, watching the people and window shopping. As the day progressed, she found herself stopping to look behind her occasionally. She didn't know why, but the feeling that she was being watched was growing stronger. But when she turned to look, there was never anyone suspicious there. 

Around four, she made her way home.   
  


Behind my eyes   
I keep my truth from you.   
No one enters this secret place,   
The barrier that only I embrace.   
Time is fleeting now,   
They say.   
Take time to look inside   
And face . . . the change.   
-Chris DeGarmo and Geoff Tate 

She ate most of her dinner that night, and it even tasted kind of good. Afterwards, she went to her room and pulled out some of her sewing to work on. She worked on that until eight, when she fixed herself a sleeping powder laced cup of tea and turned in for the night. Sleep came quickly. 

She awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, unsure of what had snapped her from sleep. Something told her not to open her eyes. She just lay there, ears straining for any clue as to what had woke her up. Eventually, she realized she had been hearing it all along. She could hear her own breathing, which was now coming in shuddering little gasps, but behind that, there was someone else breathing. 

Don't be stupid, she told herself. She was alone, and had a very good imagination. But damn, that sounded like someone breathing. Don't. Don't do what you are thinking of doing, she thought. If you actually check to make sure you are alone, you will undo all the good you have done for yourself in the last couple of days. Then it's back to square one. 

Her voice began speaking without her realizing what she was doing. She whispered quietly, and was barely audible. 

"Sometimes, I think you're still with me, but when I open my eyes, you're gone." 

The other breathing she had been hearing stopped when she spoke. See?, she thought. More head games you're playing with yourself. 

"Then don't open your eyes." he whispered back. 

Her heart stopped. It seemed that way. The next heart beat took forever to arrive and she couldn't pull in any air. Whatever you do, she told herself, do not open your eyes. 

She could feel it now, the warmth of his breath on her face. He was there!, she was screaming inside. 

"Just give me something, Robert. Let me know I'm not dreaming. Just show me that I'm not going mad." 

She heard him move across the sheet, and she felt the brush of his lips on hers. She sucked in a breath and her eyes began to flutter open. A split second before she could focus, a hand covered them. 

"Please don't look, Annie. I look like I did when I died. I am not at my prettiest." 

"I don't care how you look, just please don't leave me." 

"I never left you, Annie." 

There was another kiss and she woke up to the midmorning light.   
  


Now's not the time to say goodbye   
And I'm not the kind to question why   
And I don't feel very well   
And it's getting cold as hell   
Won't be the same   
Can't you tell? 

Don't Leave Me All Alone   
-Gary Cherone 

When she still hadn't come downstairs at two thirty, Miss Bigsley came looking for her. Annie didn't answer the door, so her landlord unlocked the door and let herself in. Annie was sitting in her rocking chair and staring out the window. 

She was holding a photograph of Robert in her hands. He was standing in a spotlight with one arm raised in triumph. It had been clipped from a newspaper. She was still wearing her nightgown. 

"Am I going insane?" 

"I don't know." said Miss Bigsley. She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Annie's unmade bed. "Do you think that you are?" 

"Sometimes." 

"Then you most likely aren't." 

"I keep thinking that he's here." 

"That's normal, Annie . . . " 

"I keep finding things." She sniffed loudly. "I don't know what's real anymore." 

Miss Bigsley came over and put her arms around Annie. She squeezed the shaking girl close. Annie broke down, sobbing. Miss Bigsley noticed that Annie was burning a fever and her nightgown was soaked with sweat. "Why is he doing this to me? I was just starting to get better, and now this." 

"It's ok, girl." she said and patted Annie on the shoulder. "I'm going to go get you a doctor. I think you're coming down with something." 

"Wait." said Annie. "I can't afford a doctor." 

Miss Bigsley ignored her. She got up and hurried out of the room. A minute later Annie heard the door downstairs slam shut. She returned half an hour later with a doctor in tow. 

Once the doctor had examined Annie, he told Miss Bigsley that it was probably a combination of stress and Annie not eating like she should. "These things wear a person down." he told them. 

He prescribed bed rest and plenty of clear soups. Miss Bigsley thanked him and slipped him some money on his way out. 

When she came back in the room, Annie had crawled into the bed and fallen asleep. She got the girl some more covers and left her to rest.   
  


At six, Miss Bigsley brought up a tray of soup and hot tea, which she sat and watched Annie eat. She left the pot of tea for her and took the rest of the dishes away. Annie lay awake for quite a while, thinking about the last couple of days. She knew she was supposed to sleep, the doctor had told her so. She just couldn't get her mind off Robert, and she couldn't get any sleep at all. 

Finally, at eight thirty, she made up her mind. She crawled out bed and tiptoed to her vanity. She eased open the top drawer and pulled out her bottle of sleeping powder. She carried it back to the bed with her and poured herself a cup of tea. She shook out a healthy teaspoon of the powder and stirred it into her cup. I am awfully awake, she thought, and poured in some more.   
  


She dreamed wild dark dreams. Some were of happy times, her and Robert making love, others were of the two of them walking the streets of the city. But every time she would start to slip into the spirit of the dream, it would start taking a turn for the worse. They all ended with her running through the snowy streets, screaming for someone to please help them. Eventually, it turned into one long loop, her running through endless streets, screaming until her voice grew hoarse and then until she tasted blood in her throat. 

There was no policeman to help her, no one to listen, she was alone in a labyrinth of her own nightmares. She was getting very cold. In her dream she began to stumble, shivering so hard that she could not even walk. She fell in the snow and laying panting, icy needles stabbing into every inch of her flesh. Her eyes rolled wildly, and she saw that she was in the alley where Robert had died. 

"I've come home." she said. She realized then that this is where she had been headed for the last three months. Every path she had taken since he died had been leading back to here. 

Her breathing was slowing now, and she felt weightless. 

Very, very far away, like hearing a distant echo but being too far away to hear the actual scream, she heard the sound of glass shattering. She heard his voice. It came in from some remote location. His words were mangled and just barely understandable. 

"What the hell do you think you are doing, Annie?!" she heard him yell. 

She felt his hands grab her head and then he was there. He stood in front of her, a beacon of hope in the midst of her nightmare. He was dressed the same way he had been on the night he died, a fool's colorful costume and a smile painted on his face. "What are you doing?" he repeated sternly. 

"I wanted to be with you." she said. Why was he so mad? "I miss you so much, Robert." 

"Do you think that I told you to run away that night just so you could do this?" He got down on one knee and picked her up in his arms. She lay her head on his chest, and decided this was where she wanted to be. 

"I can't go on living without you, Robert." she said, trying for all she was worth to make him understand. "I've tried so hard, but I can't do it." There was a sound of pleading in her voice. 

"You've been trying, all right." said Robert. "Trying to die. I know how you've been living for the last three months. You haven't. If you choose to go like this, darling, we can never be together. A person is meant to live a certain amount of time in their life. Your time isn't up yet." He set her feet on the ground and helped her keep her balance. "There is so much more of your life that you have left to live, Annie. It will get better, I promise. And in the end, when your time has come, I will be there waiting for you." 

He began to glow and soon the light of him filled her world completely. "Please don't leave me." she cried out. 

"I told you," she heard him say. "I never have." She felt his arms wrap tightly around her, and then she was gone.   
  


I've been talkin' to my angel   
And he said that it's all right.   
-Melissa Ethridge 

Miss Bigsley was in the room a second after Jim Doolin got the locked door busted open. 

"Oh, sweet Jesus, girl, what have you done?" She sat Annie up in bed and began to slap her in the face. The empty tea cup and the empty powder bottle fell from Annie's limp hands and shattered on the floor. "Come on, stupid girl, wake up." 

Annie moaned and Miss Bigsley gave her a firm shake. "That's it! Come on, Jim, help me get her up so we can get her walking." She looked at all the broken glass on the floor and told him to help her lift Annie over it. They got her across the room and began walking her. At first she just hung limply in their arms, but within twenty minutes she was coming around and was able to answer some of their questions. Still, they didn't let her rest. Miss Bigsley kept walking her while she sent Jim Doolin to go get the doctor. 

"What were you thinkin', girl?" Miss Bigsley asked her asked once he had left. 

"I didn't want to live anymore." said Annie. "I think maybe I do now." 

"How many fingers?" 

Annie counted three and Miss Bigsley let her sit down at the table. She let her eyes wander the room. 

"What happened in here?" asked Annie. 

The window was broken, and the glass from it covered the floor and the bed. There were muddy footprints all over the sheets and blankets on the bed. 

"You must have broken the window somehow." said Miss Bigsley. "That's what brought me and Jim Doolin running." 

"If I broke the window, how come all the glass is on the inside?" 

Miss Bigsley stared across the room. "I don't know."   
  


Miss Bigsley was able to convince the doctor that Annie had only overdosed on the sleeping powder by accident. That was all that kept her from going to the big gray building up on the hill. Annie thought that maybe some more money had changed hands, too. 

Over the next two days she recovered her strength and was able to clean her plates when Miss Bigsley brought them up. She slept the sleep of the content at night. On the second night, she joined the others at the table downstairs. Miss Bigsley had not told them anything and she had sworn Jim Doolin to secrecy. 

She still hurt inside. That hadn't changed. It just seemed that ever since Robert had come to save her, it didn't hurt quite so bad. The wounds in her heart that had lain open for three months were closing now, and turning to scars. She had felt a healing warmth when he had taken her into his arms. That warmth was with her still. 

Sleep came easily at night now. She felt him there sometimes, in the early hours before the sun came up. Not physically. Just a feeling sometimes that if she were to open her eyes and look at the rocking chair, he would be sitting there with that shit eating grin on his face. She never looked, though. It was her faith in him that told her that he would be there, and that was more convincing than anything her eyes could have told her.   
  


A week later, she settled down at the table with the other boarders. Miss Bigsley had made a roast for dinner, and it smelled wonderful. They were not a group to stand on ceremony, and she was just about to dig in when there was a knock at the door. 

Nathan, one of the other renters got up and went down the hall to answer it. He came back into the dining room and said, "It's for you, Annie. A Mr. Henry Randall." 

"I don't know a Mr. Randall." she said as she got up from the table. 

"He said to tell you that Robert sent him." 

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Miss Bigsley. The old woman just shrugged at her, bewildered. 

Annie opened the door and stepped out onto the patio. There was a tall, lean man dressed in a black suit waiting for her. Annie said, "Hello?" 

He spun around when she spoke and said, "Hello, Miss Borden. My name is Henry Randall." 

"They said Robert sent you. Did you know him when he was alive?" 

"Not really, ma'am. I'd say that I've spent more time with Mr. Mandale since his death than before it. He came to visit me eight nights ago, ma'am. I think he came there with every intention of killing me." 

Annie thought she might want to sit down for this, so she pulled up a chair. "Why would Robert want to kill you?" she asked. 

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I think I am the reason your fiance died. About three months ago, I was the lead dancer at a local theater. Your fiance Robert was working as an understudy for me. I had built up some debts to some people that you don't build up debts to. One day, word got around that they are looking for me. I don't have any money and I know what they will do if I don't pay up. I did the only thing I could think of. I skipped town. I think they killed your husband because they thought he was me." His eyes began to water up and his voice cracked. "I'm very sorry, Miss Borden. I had no idea that this would happen." 

"Did Robert say why he decided not to kill you?" 

"No, but I think it was because he realized that I didn't know what I had done, and I begged him for forgiveness. I was on my knees on the floor, weeping like a baby. He walked up to me and put his hands on my head. I really thought he was going to snap my neck. Instead, he simply said, "You're forgiven, Henry Randall, go and sin no more." When I looked up, he was gone." 

"And he told you to come see me?" 

"No. I got your name from one of the local theaters where I was asking around about Robert. One of the directors that you do a lot of work for gave me your address." 

"Do you have the names of the men that killed Robert? The murder case is still open, you know." 

"Yes, but their names will do you no good. They were all killed within the space of seven days about a week or so back. I think it was Him that did it. I think that I was supposed to be the last one." 

Henry sat on one of the other chairs and set his hat in his lap. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, neither of them sure what to say to the other. He stared out across the town for several minutes and then he said, "I've done what I feel I needed to, Miss Borden. I hope I haven't hurt you any more by coming here." He stood back up and put his hat back on his head. He waited to see if she had any words for him, and seeing that she didn't, he started down the steps. 

He got halfway down the walkway when Annie yelled, "Wait!" 

Henry stopped and turned back to her. "Yes?" 

"Are you hungry?" she asked. 

"Not really, ma'am. I ate dinner a little while ago so I could put off coming over here." 

"Well, you will just have to watch me eat." she said and came down the steps to join him.   
  


If I had one wish   
It wouldn't be hard to chose.   
Seven sundays in a row   
'Cause that's the day that I spend with you.   
-Gary Cherone 

That's all folks. Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you have any comments or curse words you would like to share with me, feel free to e-mail me at bcampo@hotmail.com. 

Thank you for reading, and I hope you were able to enjoy the story even though it wasn't a violent blood bath. 

* * *

[][2]

   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: /or/crowffa/fanfic.html



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